


Spellingg Bee

by thatpunnyperson



Series: Another Viewpoint [2]
Category: Psych
Genre: Episode: s01e02 Spellingg Bee, Spellingg Bee Rewrite, actually not much sex at all, but not explicitly written sex, implied sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-01
Updated: 2018-04-01
Packaged: 2019-04-16 21:50:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14174124
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thatpunnyperson/pseuds/thatpunnyperson
Summary: Lassie was assigned a new parter and is taking seemingly simple cases to ease her into life as a cop in Santa Barbara. However, when the Spellmaster for the spelling be regionals falls from his box during the bee, Lassie and Shawn have different ideas as to what killed him. Juggling a new partner and a not-quite-partner is tough.





	1. Chapter 1

Lassie’s new partner, Juliet O’Hara, was pretty green. She had transferred in from Miami, Florida, and initially had some trouble adjusting to the incredibly dry and incredibly mundane climate of Santa Barbara. She started to relax when a case came across Lassie’s desk and he decided to test her mettle. 

A guy had robbed three diners in the past month. Each time, he managed to quietly get the manager to hand over the contents of the register and then get the patrons to hand over the contents of their wallets. Luckily, this meant that they had a concrete description of the guy. After working over the details of the case for a few hours, Lassie and Juliet realized where his next target might be. One morning, the two of them head to the diner by the pier that is frequented by tourists and fishermen coming in after a morning’s haul.

“Alright, you have your wire just in case, but don’t make contact unless it’s to arrest him,” Lassie told Juliet as they sat in his car across the street. People had been in and out of the diner for the past few minutes due to the morning rush. 

“Are you sure I should go in there in plain clothes and not a bullet proof vest?” Juliet asked kind of sarcastically. Lassie gave a short, derisive laugh in agreement. He’d been babying her as she got accustomed to the SBPD and he probably deserved that jab. 

Juliet got out of the car and walked across the street to the diner. Lassie watched as she passed a guy in a brown jacket that looked to be fighting with the newspaper dispenser outside. Lassie turned on his earpiece so he could listen to Juliet and the sounds of the diner. Her wire took in the sounds and broadcasted them only to Lassie’s earpiece, so it wasn’t an official wire. It wasn’t even officially sanctioned but he worried about his new partner. She was so small and young; he didn’t want her to accidentally get shot because he wasn’t paying attention. 

“Can you hear me, Carlton?” he heard Juliet’s voice whisper.

“Loud and clear, partner,” replied Lassie, with a grin. Lassie looked down the road a bit and saw the other surveillance car laying in wait. He gave a small thumbs-up and saw them return the gesture. They figured that they didn’t need a big surveillance van because, well, they didn’t need to do surveillance. They knew the guy was guilty and they knew he would show up at some point. They needed the additional officers down the road in case they needed the extra muscle. 

Lassie sat there in his car, thinking and watching as the guy in the brown coat stopped fighting with the newspaper dispenser and went back inside the diner. The ambient diner sounds in one ear mixed with the ambient city sounds in the other and Lassie was glad he had become a police officer. The case was pretty open and shut at this point, and not much could get in the way of the arrest. 

“Excuse me, you’re in my seat,” a voice asked Juliet. Lassie swore it sounded familiar but the electronic distortion through the earpiece threw him for a loop. 

“Am I?” Juliet asked coyly. For a moment, Lassie feared that this was their guy and that Juliet was making conversation in the hopes that he’d reveal himself as the robber. He listened in closer.

“Actually, yes. You are,” the guy said. He sounded kind of annoyed. 

“Are you one of those weirdo compulsives who come to the same restaurant, sit in the same chair, and eat the same food every day?” Juliet inquired. If this was their guy, Juliet should lay off the insulting generalization about compulsive people. It might just make him angry. 

“Uh, no, no, no. I was sitting right there three minutes ago,” the guy replied, clearly annoyed now, “and then I went outside to get myself a paper.” Lassie heard a rustling through the earpiece and mentally smacked himself. This guy was the guy with the brown jacket who was fighting the newspaper dispenser outside. 

“I ordered the juice,” Brown Jacket continued, and Lassie heard the sound of a cup being set down, probably after being picked up by the guy. “And, look, I made a crawling snake with the straw wrapper.” There was a pause and Lassie could practically see the guy holding up the straw wrapper as evidence. “You can finish it if you think you’re up to the job.” 

“I’m sorry,” Juliet apologized. “You want me to move?” 

“Not anymore,” Brown Jacket said, changing his demeanor. Why was his voice so familiar? “So what’s up?” he continued.

“I don’t have time to talk,” Juliet said politely. Lassie was proud of her, he would have flashed his gun and said something along the lines of “get lost.” 

“But you haven’t heard what I’m going to say,” Brown Jacket pressed. What a dick. Juliet had clearly told him she didn’t want to talk. Lassie let out a huff in sympathy and Juliet managed to pass off her amused chuckle as a disappointed sigh.

“See, now we’ve already talked more than I wanted to,” Juliet continued. Lassie heard the sounds of her rustling with her purse as she prepared for Brown Jacket to annoy her. 

“Well, I did give you my seat, you know,” Brown Jacket asked, his voice dropping lower. The man’s actual name was literally on the tip of Lassie’s tongue; it was so frustrating. “I think that gets me one question.” 

“Listen, diner guy—“ Juliet began to say when the guy interrupted with his name. 

“Shawn,” he said. 

Lassie just about shot himself in the face. 

Shawn Spencer. Psychic detective. Occasional booty call. 

Lassie was lost in thought just long enough to miss the next few seconds of their conversation. However, he was knocked out of his thoughts by a high-pitched voice speaking.

“…Oh, that sounds interesting, and a little bit dangerous. Ooh, I like your jacket. I like it—“ Shawn was saying in a fake girly voice before Juliet stopped him.

“Okay, can I stop you there? First off, in your portrayal of me, I sound like I’m in the eighth grade,” Juliet accused with only a little amusement in her voice. 

“Well, in my portrayal of you, you only have an eighth grade education.” There was a pause where Lassie assumes Juliet gave him a look, and then he continued. “All right, smarten you up. College? Yeah? Top of your class, graduated early…got it.” The Shawn changed to a less high-pitched but smoother voice. “I’m new in town and I don’t know many people…but I do know my cats. Two of them. The gray one is very affectionate. The white one makes me work much, much harder for the attention.”

How the hell did he know Juliet had two cats? And how did he guess their hair color and personalities? Lassie refused to believe it was his “psychic ability.”

“And what about your family?” Shawn said in his normal voice before continuing with the smooth woman-ish voice. “My family’s amazing. My parents have been together for, what is it, 30 years now?” 

“Okay, do we know each other?” Juliet asked, genuine curiosity in her voice. 

“Yes, you are the girl who stole my seat!” replied Shawn in a petulant voice. Lassie rolled his eyes at the childish behavior he had been expecting. His eyes returned to position in time to see a guy in a torn grey sweatshirt, jeans, and a baseball hat walk through the door of the diner. 

“O’Hara,” Lassie said in warning as he grabbed his binoculars from the glove compartment. He looked towards the front windows but the sun was creating a glare on the glass. 

“We’re coming in there,” Lassie said as he got out of the car, motioning to the other car to join him. Right before he opened the door, Lassie heard Juliet yell, “Police! Don’t move!” 

Lassie and the other officers threw open the door with their guns drawn to see Juliet pointing her gun at the guy in the torn sweatshirt. The guy was about to draw his own gun in response.

“Gun!” Lassie called out.

“Go!” one of the officers replied as his buddy leapt forth and grabbed it out of their perp’s hand. The man protested as they pushed him onto the bar and cuffed him but Lassie simply instructs the other officers to put him in their squad car. 

Lassie looked over a Juliet, noticing the tremor in her hand before seeing Shawn give him a little wave. Lassie frowned slightly and holstered his own gun before leaving. As he walked back to wait at his car, he heard Shawn and Jules talking.

“First time pulling your gun?” Shawn asked with a noisy sip through his straw. 

“Maybe,” Juliet replied, and Lassie heard her zip her purse and walk away.

Good, Lassie thought. Spencer’s not worth her time.

¤¤¤¤¤¤

It turned out that their robber was only committing the crimes because his bookie had threatened his family. Lassie didn’t feel sorry for the guy—if you get money from a bookie, you’re an idiot. Juliet was much more sympathetic to the guy and offered to put in a good word with the district attorney in exchange for information about the bookie and for the stolen property back. 

Shortly thereafter, they brought in the bookie and found out that he had been threatening several more residents of Santa Barbara as well as tax fraud. Enough people came forward against the bookie that the DA let their original guy off with community service. The bookie, however, accepted a deal for 10 years in jail.

Juliet looked please with herself at their results. Lassie was rather disappointed that their original guy didn’t go to jail.

“I don’t understand how you care so much,” Lassie said as he leaned against the edge of Juliet’s desk. “They’re criminals.” 

“Carlton?” Juliet prompted.

“Yeah?” 

“What do the fifth, sixth, and fourteenth amendments of our country’s constitution say?”

“Well, the fifth establishes a criminal’s Miranda rights, the sixth establishes a criminal’s right to a fair trial, and the fourteenth establishes equal rights for everyone when it comes to the law, even criminals. Why?”

“What does everything you just said actually mean?”

“That…criminals need to be treated properly. Which we do. Because they’re criminals. But that doesn’t mean we need to care about them.”

“I guess our interpretations of ‘innocent until proven guilty in a court of law’ differ,” Juliet said.

“Detectives, I appreciate that you two are working on deepening your understanding of our laws,” the interim chief, Karen Vick, said as she bustled past them. “But if you could follow me to the parking lot, we have a bit of a situation downtown. I have to make a quick stop at the Cabrillo Theatre but I’ll meet you guys there.” 

Lassie and Juliet stood up and grabbed their things, following the chief outside. Chief Vick handed Juliet a file folder and then broke off to go to her own car, leaving Lassie and Juliet to hop into Lassie’s car. Once they were on the road, following the chief, Juliet flipped through the file.

“Ooh, a robbery standoff!” she said. “They have the owner hostage and are occasionally firing at the cars in the parking lot as a show of force.”

“Any casualties yet?” Lassie asked as he flipped on his turn signal for a sharp turn. The chief did not signal and Lassie would have written her up if he didn’t value his life.

“None as of the time this file was printed, but who knows? Maybe we’ll get there and be surprised.” 

It was at this point that the chief turned toward the theatre, so Lassie continued with the other squad cars that were heading downtown to the standoff. The Cabrillo Theatre was a weird place to be heading, especially since Lassie didn’t know of any cases there. 

Lassie and Juliet screeched to a halt when they reached the other squad cars gathered outside the shop. They got out of the car and were waved over by an important looking guy holding a megaphone. 

“Head Detective Carlton Lassiter and Detective Juliet O’Hara,” Lassie said to the guy, offering a handshake. 

“Welcome, Detectives,” the guy replied. “We have a bit of a sticky situation here. Two perps went into the store with guns drawn and most of the customers were able to get out while the perps hassled the owner. They now have the owner at gunpoint and have shot out several of the tires of the cars parked out front. Due to the way shelves are arranged inside, we can’t get a clear shot at the perps.”

“May I borrow your megaphone?” Lassie asked. The guy shrugged and handed it over. Lassie held it up to his mouth and turned it on.

“This is Head Detective Carlton Lassiter of the Santa Barbara Police Department. The chief of police is on her way and she is very pregnant. This has made her very angry as of late so I suggest you come out with your hands up so we can avoid any unnecessary bloodshed.” 

“How far along is she?” one of the perps yelled through the cracked front door.

“I do not know because I don’t know much about pregnancy, but what I do know is that I’m carrying two firearms right now and I know that’s not enough to keep her back if she gets going,” Lassie said, trying to keep the grin out of his voice. 

There was a beat of silence and then the store’s door opened. Then, two guys walked out with the arms held up. Lassie handed the megaphone back to the guy and gave him a self-satisfied grin. The men were cuffed and walking towards a squad car when the chief’s car came sliding around a nearby corner. The car began to break and spun out dramatically before coming to a stop. The chief smoothly slid out of the driver’s seat with her gun drawn.

Lassie could have sworn he heard one of the perps say “Holy shit.”

“You’re just in time chief,” Lassie called over to her. “They surrendered.”

“What?” Vick said, sounding almost sad. “How did that happen?” 

“I told them that you were pregnant and angry, and they gave up.”

“No, really. Why did they surrender?”

“For what it’s worth, ma’am,” one of the criminals began. “He made you sounds terrifying. And your entrance didn’t change the mental image much.”

Chief Vick looked at Lassie and opened her mouth to say something when her phone began to ring. 

“Detective, we will have words later about your negotiation techniques,” Vick said before answering her phone. 

Lassie looked over at Juliet and saw her quickly wipe off a look of awe.


	2. Chapter 2

“How’d you know that would work?” Juliet asked Lassie back at the station.

“Well, we arrived on the scene and I suddenly remembered how the chief became enraged last week when someone ate the last apple fritter,” Lassie explained. “I realized that if she can scare an entire precinct of Santa Barbara’s finest, then just the idea of her would be enough to scare two two-bit thugs absolutely shitless.” Lassie shrugged and signed the bottom of a form for the paperwork of their case. 

“And you were right,” Juliet said, letting the awe sneak into her voice.

“I was,” Lassie said with a wistful sigh. “It’s the kind of power that I look for in a woman; the ability to terrify someone without actually meaning to. Absolutely intoxicating. If Vick wasn’t married and with child, I would toy with the idea of dating her.”

“I don’t know what to tackle first,” Juliet said with a laugh. “You fancying the chief or the fact that like your girlfriends to be effortlessly powerful”

“I like any potential female romantic partner to be able to handle my sheer power of both will and of strength,” Lassie said defensively.

“That makes it sound like you prefer any potential male romantic partner to be different,” Juliet countered, still amused. 

“I’ll have you know that I like any potential male romantic partners to be even more powerful,” Lassie counter-countered, intending the thought to be similar to saying, “check mate” during a chess game. 

And then he realized that he unintentionally just came out to his new partner. 

Juliet smiled warmly at him.

“Thank you for trusting me enough to share your sexuality with me,” Juliet said.

“Well,” Lassie replied, deciding that it was for the best, “I figure that partners should know everything about each other. It builds trust.”

“Then, in the spirit of sharing, I think you should know that I—“ Juliet had begun to say when Officer McNab showed up.

“Hey, guys, the chief wants you guys to head on down to the Cabrillo Theatre,” McNab said. “There’s been a murder.”

“McNab, can’t you see that O’Hara and I are doing a trust building exercise right now?” Lassie inquired.

“You two looked like you were just talking…” McNab said, trailing off at the end as Lassie felt his eyes narrow in annoyance.

“That’s because gaining my trust is a long road requiring careful navigation,” replied Lassie. “A road you just lead a herd of cows into. Now O’Hara’s got to take a detour.” Lassie stood and tried to tower of the man to express his displeasure at being interrupted, but McNab was a few inches taller than him. He snatched his suit jacket from the coat rack and pulled it on and McNab awkwardly turned and walked away. 

“I’m sorry, O’Hara,” Lassie said as he buttoned his jacket. “You were saying?”

“It’s not that important,” Juliet said, noncommittally. “I’ll tell you later.”

¤¤¤¤¤¤

“So, witnesses say that he got up and then fell over the railing and onto the chairs below,” Juliet relayed to Lassie. Lassie was leaning against the stage at the heart of the theatre. The Spellmaster, Elvin Cavanaugh, was lying dead in the seats.

“Man his size probably had a heart attack, but we won’t know for certain until an autopsy,” Lassie said, crossing his arms across his chest. “Seems pretty straight forward to me.”

“Since he fell from the Spellmaster’s box up there, there might be something to help us solidify the idea of a heart attack before the autopsy?” Juliet suggested. 

“Yeah, I guess I could use the cardio from the stair climbing,” Lassie said and pushed himself from his place of leaning. They walked up through the aisle and out into the hallway, making their way up to the balcony. When they stepped into the room, they were confronted with the sight of numerous fast food and take-out containers.

“Yep,” Lassie said definitively. “Definitely a heart attack.” He looked around and noticed three circular divots in the carpet. Probably from the chair the man sat in, Lassie thought. 

He glanced over and Juliet was gently flipping through the notebook on his desk. She was dutifully copying the notes Cavanaugh had scribbled in the margins. They left the room and went back down to the main area to release the body to the guys from the coroner’s office. On the way, Lassie grabbed a container of popcorn from a concession stand in the hallway. As the coroners were wheeling the body away, Juliet turned to Lassie.

“When do we decide if we should cancel this event?” Juliet asked him.

“Why would we cancel?” Lassie said, quizzical. 

“Well, a body did just tumble into the crowd,” Juliet said pointedly.

“It didn’t land on anybody,” Lassie countered, punctuating his statement by popping some popcorn into his mouth. Juliet looked at him, disappointment clear on her face.

“It might be traumatic,” she said, emphatically. Lassie almost laughed at that.

“For who? The mayor, when he realizes all the hotel rooms are now empty?” 

“We could postpone at least a day. I’m sure that’s allowed.” 

“Do you have any idea how important this event is to the city? No, unhealthy guy has heart attack, falls over railing. Case closed. I’m certainly not declaring it a crime scene.” Lassie looked over at a group of people nearing them, armed with cameras and microphones, and he continued, “Come on. You can introduce me to the press.” Juliet rolled her eyes at him and then gave him a serious look.

“Okay. Just be sensitive,” she cautioned.

“How about we don’t sell the seat the guy landed on?” he hedged.

Before Juliet could answer, an officer walked up to the two of them and thoroughly confused Lassie. 

“You’re supposed to be up by the Spellmaster’s box, keeping guard,” Lassie told the officer in a disappointed tone. 

“I was but then your department’s psychics stopped by and the spirit of the dead guy got angry and threw him down the stairs,” the officer explained with a tremor of fear in his voice. “They said they would cleanse the area of subdue the spirit and that I should leave before the dead guy got even angrier about being murdered.”

Shawn threw himself down some stairs to sell the whole psychic thing? Lassie tried to keep his face its previous blank disappointment as he considered the idea of Shawn getting injured. Lassie didn’t like the idea at all. 

Lassie glanced up to the Spellmaster’s booth and saw two heads suddenly duck out of view.

“So how many of our people are still up there while you’re cowering down here?” 

“Well, uh, there are four up there,” the officer said gesturing to the doors on the far side of the balcony, “and then the two psychics.”

“What, you mean those two guys up there?” Lassie was about to correct the man that Shawn and his friend, Guster, were not actually psychics and were not actually part of the SBPD when Juliet came over.

“Excuse me,” she said to draw his attention. “Hi. It’s time. The press are ready.” Lassie waved the officer away with an annoyed “thanks” and turned to Juliet. 

Lassie straightened his tie and turned towards the group of reporters walking over to him.

“Detective, do you have any comment on the death of Spellmaster Cavanaugh at this juncture?” one of the reporters shoved a microphone in his face as they spoke. 

“So far, all signs point towards the man having a heart attack and accidentally falling over the railing,” Lassie answered. “The theater is both safe and secure and the competition will proceed on schedule. Wait, could I just try that again? I kind of fumbled the ‘safe and secure’ part.”

“Sure,” the reporter said with a smile.

Juliet leaned over to him and whispered, “be sensitive,” to which he sarcastically responded with “of course.” He was the epitome of sensitive. He had been a detective for years now and had the sensitivity of a mother elephant. 

“The finals will continue tomorrow as scheduled,” Lassie began again. “At this point, all indications are that Mr. Cavanaugh was having a heart attack, stumbled forward, falling over the railing to his death, but we want to assure everyone that this building is both safe and—“ 

“Our sympathies go out to Mr. Cavanaugh’s family, and we would like to offer counseling to anyone who feels they might need it,” Juliet cut in. 

“And again,” Lassie continued after she finished. “We want to assure everyone coming out for this fantastic event that it is entirely safe.” Lassie glanced around the group of reporters and saw a familiar head of hair near the back of the group. The short, brown hair was in an almost faux-hawk and looked impossibly thicker than the last time he saw it. 

“One last question,” Lassie said, focusing back on the reporters. “And I really have to go wrap up the scene.” 

“Is there any word as to what Cavanaugh’s big announcement was?” 

Before Lassie could answer, there was a shout from the back of the group.

“Moo goo gai pan!” Shawn called out, his finger against his temple. Lassie tried not to roll his eyes as the cameras all swung to point at Shawn.

“Beef lo mein! Kung pao!” Shawn continued, shouting and groaning as though he was out of breath. Lassie thought the noises were a bit too suggestive but probably only because Lassie had heard that tone of voice used in a much different context. “Check the food! It was murder!” 

Shawn suddenly dropped his hand to his chest and innocently asked, “Oh, did I just say all of that out loud?”

¤¤¤¤¤¤

“Spencer, what do you think you’re doing?” Lassie demanded as he pulled Shawn aside. Juliet was off meeting Guster for the first time and Lassie figured that would give him time to get some answers from Shawn. Also, Lassie wanted to talk to Shawn for personal reasons that even he himself was unsure of. 

“What do you mean?” Shawn asked innocently. He shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans, making his shoulders rise and making his overall appearance seem smaller. A textbook defensive pose. 

“Stop that, you’re not in trouble,” Lassie said in a softer voice.

“Then why the accusation?”

“Because you’ve managed to show up at two of my cases today and surprise me while I’m working,” Lassie said, irate at best. “And I don’t really like surprises.”

“Dude, has it occurred to you that I am also working?” Shawn said, relaxing his shoulders slightly but still keeping his hands in his pockets.

“I was under the impression that you were listening on a police radio to figure out where the important cases are. And the important cases are always my cases.” Lassie put his hands in his own pockets to mirror Shawn’s posture and make him less tense. 

“My possession of a police scanner has nothing to do with this case. Gus and I were literally here and watched the guy fall.”

“You never struck me as a fan of spelling bees…”

“I’m not; Gus is. Also, the chief wanted us here because one of the contestants may have been sabotaged.”

“The Vu kid? I though he had a panic attack and fainted?”

“He probably did, but the inhaler he was using should have helped one of the hundred times the kid tried to use it. It may have been—“

“Tampered with so the chief wanted you to come down here and ‘read’ the contestants and families to see if one of them sabotaged him.”

“Exactly,” Shawn said with a smile. “Finishing my sentences? Really, Lassie? That’s cliché, even for you.”

“I was just tired of hearing your voice,” Lassie said sarcastically. “Speaking of, why do you make so many sex noises when you get your ‘psychic visions?’ 

“For the drama, my good man. For the drama,” Shawn said, finally taking a hand out of his left pocket and playfully slapping Lassie’s right upper arm. “Also, you’re literally the only person here aside from Gus who knows they’re sex noises, and he only knows that because of an unfortunate incident a few years ago.”

Lassie was briefly surprised into silence, and Shawn took the opportunity to walk back over to Guster and Juliet.


	3. Chapter 3

“Lassie, I need you to teach me the fundamentals of construction so I can show up my dad.”

When Lassie had heard a knock on his door literally 10 minutes after he had gotten home from the station, he didn’t expect it to be Shawn. But he wasn’t surprised.

“Spencer, if I wanted to know about your daddy issues, I would have asked about it after the first time we had sex,” Lassie said, stepping aside and motioning for Shawn to enter.

“This isn’t about my daddy issues,” Shawn said petulantly. “This is about ‘finishing what I started’ and understanding responsibility or some nonsense. I asked my dad for a favor and he demanded that I finish a project I began in 1989. I was a child back then and yet I still have no understanding of building but I’m damned if I’m going to admit that to him.”

In 1989, Lassie was fresh out of the academy and working the beat. In that moment, he became hyper aware of their age difference. 

“Fine, but consider this a favor that will eventually need repaying,” Lassie conceded. 

“Of course,” Shawn said, placing himself firmly in Lassie’s living room armchair. Lassie rolled his eyes and retrieved a note pad from one of his bookshelves. Lassie sat down on the couch and placed the notepad on the coffee table.

“Okay, the first thing you need to know about building things is that the triangle is the strongest shape,” Lassie began. He drew a rough triangle on the sheet of paper. “Tell me why.”

“Well, a triangle has three sides and if you push on any of the corners, it wont collapse flat or nearly flat without dislodging one of the joints?” 

“Exactly. Unlike a square or a rectangle, which can be squished and still have all four points connected, a triangle is stable. This is why stools usually have three legs and why tricycles are a beginner’s bicycle. So, if you wanted to build a wall, how would you arrange triangles into a strong square?” Lassie pushed the notepad and pen over to Shawn.

“You would stack the triangles, obviously.” Shawn drew a square with a diagonal line between two of the opposite corners. 

“If you wanted it to be even stronger, you would add more triangles.” Lassie took the pen and connected the remaining two opposite corners with another diagonal line. 

“So, if I’m making a building, I would want the three solid walls to each be four triangles?” Shawn looked confused, so Lassie took the notepad back and ripped out the sheet of paper. 

Lassiter folded the sheet in half lengthwise and then in half twice in the same direction so he now had an open cube. 

“See this paper? It’s about 8 inches by 10 inches. I folded it in half lengthwise so it became 4 inches by 10 inches, and then I folded it twice height-wise so it became 4 inches by 2.5 inches. For the purposes of this model, the 4 inches will be the height of the walls and the 2.5 inches will be the width of the walls. Go it?” 

Shawn nodded, still confused but clearly willing to listen and watch. 

“Okay,” Lassie said, placing the paper down on the coffee table so it was 4 inches by 10 inches. He drew lines along the creases, marking off the 2.5-inch width before making the cube again. “Each square is a wall. If you draw a line from each corner to it’s opposite, the sides will look like they have a giant X on the side—“

“Like a stereotypical barn.”

“Exactly! If you had pieces of wood forming a square and then placed crossbeams in the shape of an X, the wall is infinitely sturdier than just a square. So, when building anything, make vertical walls with an X and the building will stand.”

“So…I can’t just get a bunch of wooden X’s and connect them at the ends?”

“No, because the corners would end up being four sided instead of three. Three sides is key here, Spencer.”

“I have to make the square and then I have the make the X? That seems like so much work.”

“Well, construction is hard work.”

“Fine,” Shawn said leaning forward to rest his forearms on his thighs. “Rule number one is that triangles are the strongest shape. What’s rule number 2?” 

“Rule number two is that everything must be angled or much overlap to allow water and other things to easily flow off. This is why people usually do not have flat roofs, because rainwater would get trapped on the roof, would make the roof heavy, and may even make the roof collapse. Sometimes.”

“Unless you have enough triangles to support the roof, right?” Shawn asked, testing his new knowledge. “Then the rainwater would eventually overflow from the roof and fall off like a waterfall.”

“You are correct,” Lassie said with a grin. “It’s easier to make the roof sloped or angled, though, because then you don’t run the risk of waterfalls. Plus, an angled roof uses triangles, too.” Lassie picked up the folded sheet of paper and unfolded it so it was 8 inches by 10 inches again. He ripped the 2.5-inch apart creases to the middle fold line and then folded the corners in on every other square. He pinched the top together and held it up on the coffee table so it looked like a little house. 

“I kept the sides with the X’s intact but I carefully ripped the other half of the sheet up,” Lassie said with a smile. The two sides of the roof are the same dimensions as the walls and use the X’s as well, but the remaining to sides are triangles. The paper building we now have is 8 inches tall because the walls are 4 inches tall and the triangles between the roof sides are also 4 inches tall. What is wrong with the house, though?”

Shawn looked at the house with furrowed brows. He pursed his lips and reached out for Lassie’s hand, turning the hand so that the hand still held the house intact. Lassie would be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy the physical contact.

“The roof sides aren’t long enough,” Shawn finally said.

“Good, Spencer. Why?”

“Because the triangles holding up the roof on the sides are longer on the folded side than they are tall.”

“Exactly. That’s why the Pythagorean theorem is a thing. But we don’t care about Pythagoras here. We care that the height of the side triangles is taller than the pieces of paper we’re using as a roof. In reality, you build off of a framework. You have pieces of wood making the square of the sides, pieces of wood making the X of the sides, pieces of wood making the triangle of the roof and…” Lassie gestured for Shawn to finish the thought.

“Pieces of wood making the triangles of the roof?” Shawn said hesitantly.

“You are exactly correct.”

“So, rule number one is to rely on triangles and its sounding like rule number two is also to rely on triangles,” Shawn said skeptically. “Are you sure construction isn’t just math in disguise.

“Spencer, construction relies so heavily on math that I’m not sure how you made it this far without realizing it,” Lassie replied in amusement. 

“Anything else I need to know about building?” Shawn asked.

“Rule three is pretty easy and it is simply that all buildings need to be on a foundation. No building is supposed to be just straight on the ground because water and vermin will get in and ruin the inside.”

“Yeah, that seems pretty straightforward in retrospect…” Shawn said, trailing off in thought for a few sections before snapping back to reality. “So, how would you like me to return the favor?”

“By exchanging our cell phone numbers,” Lassie said, frankly. Shawn raised an eyebrow and handed his phone over for Lassie to put his number in. “I figure that you often step into things you can’t easily scrape off your shoes, and when you find yourself in danger, I would feel better knowing you have at least one current police officer as an emergency contact.” 

“That’s deceptively sweet of you, Lassie,” Shawn said so softly that Lassie almost didn’t hear him. 

“This is also so you can warn me before dropping by,” Lassie said, finishing punching his number in and handing Shawn’s phone back. “One of these days, I’m going to have someone important over and you’re going to drop by, and I’m going to have to explain to them why the local ‘psychic’ is stopping by.”

“Fair enough,” Shawn replied with a small laugh. “Well, it’s getting late and I have to ruminate on this new knowledge of building. I’ll see you around the station, probably.” 

Shawn stood up and placed a gentle kiss on Lassie’s forehead before hurrying out the front door. Lassie was surprised into silence yet again as Shawn made his escape. What the hell was wrong with him lately? He heard the sound of a motorcycle engine starting and listened as the sound faded into silence before standing up and picking up the notes from the table. 

Lassie looked at the paper model he had made while walking over to but the notepad back on his bookshelf. He carefully folded the model and placed it next to another folded piece of paper he had anchored between two large books. The other piece of paper had scribbles of lines with arrows and names crossed out, as well as a note on one side. Lassie made a small smile and walked away from the bookshelf to get ready for bed. 

¤¤¤¤¤¤

Ringing. Incessant ringing. 

Lassie had quite literally just gotten into bed when his cellphone began to ring. 

He got out of bed and walked over to the table in the hallway where he placed his car keys, badge, gun, and phone when he got home from work every day. He picked up his cellphone and looked at the number, not recognizing the digits. He hit the answer button anyway.

“This is Detective Carlton Lassiter,” Lassie said.

“Hello. This is the Santa Barbara Cottage Hospital Emergency Room,” a woman’s voice said. “Your number was listed as the emergency contact on this phone, which belongs to a young man who was just brought in. He was found on the side of the road in the hills near here and is a John Doe as of now. Do you know why you were in his phone?”

“No, but I’ll be right there to give a positive ID if I can,” Lassie said, already grabbing clothes. 

“Fantastic. Just give your name to one of the people at the front desk and they’ll direct you to his bed,” the lady replied way too cheerfully. Lassie hung up and threw on his clothes. Yeah, they were the same clothes he’d been wearing earlier but without a tie, it was like a whole new outfit, and he really didn’t want to waste time finding new clothes.

Lassie grabbed his keys, badge, and gun off the hall table and made sure to lock the front door behind him before driving to the hospital. He walked through the front doors of the hospital and up to the front desk.

“Hello, I’m Detective Lassiter and I’m here to identify a John Doe,” Lassie announced. The man behind the desk directed him Bed 6, or through the emergency room doors and the third bed on the left ride of the hallway. 

Lassie pushed through the doors and walked over to the bed, expecting the worst. He had agonized over the woman on the phone’s words. “Found on the side of the road” sounded morbid, so, frankly, Lassie was expecting to have to identify a dead body. 

He was understandably relieved to see a battered, bloody, but otherwise alive Shawn Spencer lying in the bed, unconscious. He had an IV hooked up with fluids but his heart rate was steady and strong. 

A tall, blonde woman walked over to Lassie and extended her hand.

“Hello, I’m Doctor Stiles,” she said as Lassie shook her hand. “You must be Detective Lassiter.”

“I am,” Lassie replied, recognizing the woman’s voice from the phone. 

“You made amazing time. I called you 7 minutes ago.”

“I’m a police officer with sirens on my car, and your wording made it sound like he was dead,” Lassie replied dryly. He was relieved that he wasn’t identifying a dead body but he did feel annoyed at having to hurry.

“That explains it, then,” Doctor Stiles said with a laugh. “Anyway, now that you’re hear, can you tell me who this man is?” 

“Yes. His name is Shawn Spencer.” 

“Perfect,” the doctor replied, writing down the name. “We were lucky to have found his cellphone. Mr. Spencer had no wallet because it is likely in the plants on the side of the highway where he crashed his motorcycle. The EMTs who picked him up didn’t think to look for it.”

“He crashed his bike?” That didn’t sound like Shawn, but, then again, he may have been lost in thought and accidentally driven off the road. 

“Yeah,” Doctor Stiles replied. “Luckily, he landed well and was clearly wearing his helmet, so he was only knocked unconscious and not killed on impact. He’s lucky someone was driving by and saw him.”

“Do you know when he’ll regain consciousness?” Lassie asked.

“I’m sure he could be roused from sleep right now if need be, but we figured we’d let him sleep,” Doctor Stiles answered. “Well, I figured. And since it’s the middle of the night, my word goes around here. And I usually work in the pediatrics unit so I have a soft spot for letting people rest. Anyway, if you want to wait, there’s a chair for you and a blanket in case you get cold.” The doctor gave Lassie a warm smile and gently squeezed his arm before turning and leaving. 

Lassie looked at Shawn. He had a brace on his right knee and an ace bandage wrapped around his right wrist. He also had several scrapes on his lower face but was otherwise unharmed. Shawn’s leather jacket was hanging on a coat stand next to the bed, covered in scuffs and dirt. 

Lassie walked around to the chair and sat down, taking out his phone and opening his contacts. He was putting Shawn’s number in when he heard a soft groan from the bed and looked up with his eyes.

“Where the hell…What happened?” Shawn said in a rough voice. If he hadn’t been injured, Lassie probably would have found the voice sexy. In fact, Lassie found the voice sexy anyway because it was low and rough and coarse and Lassie was bisexual for a reason. 

“Hey, sunshine,” Lassie said apathetically, returning to his phone to finish up creating the contact. He finished punching in the number and then put his phone in his inner coat pocket.

“Why the hell am I in the hospital?” Shawn said, trying to lift his head. “Whoa, okay. No head movements yet. Wow.” His head fell back against the pillows and Lassie chuckled. 

“Apparently, you crashed your bike,” Lassie said, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. Shawn looked over at him and groaned again.

“Lassie, stop being attractive,” Shawn complained. “I need my blood to go to my injuries to heal them, not anywhere else. Close your damn shirt and put away those crystal blue eyes.”

“Spencer,” Lassie said seriously. “When I labeled myself as an emergency contact in your phone, I didn’t expect to get called by the hospital less than half an hour later. You need to be more careful. The doctor said that your helmet saved your life and, looking at your leather jacket, I’d say your jacket saved your skin. You need to be more careful.”

“I was being careful,” Shawn said, trying to sit up only for Lassie to push him back down with one hand. “I was run off the road by a van.”

“Really?” Lassie said skeptically. “Are you sure you didn’t, say, get blinded by the headlights of an oncoming car while you were zoning out? Because that seems a bit more likely than being run off the road by a mysterious van.”

“Okay, first of all, Detective,” Shawn said, sitting up in the hospital bed. “I never said it was a mysterious van. I said it was a van. And second of all, I remember being blinded briefly by the headlights and then slowing down because it’s dangerous to drive while blind, obviously. And third of all, I remember having to swerve because the van swung onto my side of the road. What I don’t remember is how the hell I got to this hospital, probably because getting run off the road led to me being knocked unconscious.” 

The heart monitor hooked up to Shawn had begun beeping furiously. 

“Okay, so maybe you really were run off the road,” Lassie acquiesced in favor of making Shawn calm down. “Did you happen to see their plates?”

“No.” Shawn was frustrated. 

“Color?” 

“Beige, maybe.”

“Make? Model? Anything?”

“Lassie, it was nighttime. If I had been able to see any details, I would tell you.”

“Well, the for all intents and purposes, we have no way to know who ran you off the road,” Lassie said, leaning back and folding his hands in his lap.

“Lassie, stop it,” Shawn said.

“What?”

“I said, stop it. I need my blood anywhere not my groin.”

“Spencer, I was in bed when they called me. I can’t be expected to dress to your standards. Also, think about how I feel with your voice being all gravelly and shit. Although, luckily, I don’t need my blood anywhere specific.”

“Well, I do, so either stop enticing me with your chest hair or do something so I’m no longer focusing on it,” Shawn flopped back against the hospital bed and then winced. 

“How about I leave you to sleep under the watchful eye of the doctor so that you can heal properly and hopefully get discharged in the morning?” Lassie offered. 

“Fine,” Shawn said, pouting. “One more thing though. If whoever ran me off the road is related to either Gus’s and my inhaler case or your Spellmaster case, then things may take a bad turn soon.” 

“Spencer, I’m still not sold on the Spellmaster being murdered, let alone the kid’s inhaler being sabotaged—or even on you being run off the road. To me, it looks like you’re grasping at straws, trying to hop onto cases that don’t need hopping on.”

“Lassie, I’m telling you. These things may all be connected.”

“Maybe. But from where I’m standing, they look like random events. Now I, personally, enjoy your company in a social capacity and I will put up with you at work, but the chief will soon realize that you’re not actually psychic and then you’ll have to face the fact that you need to get some other hobby that doesn’t involve police work.”

Shawn looked at him incredulously.

“You still don’t believe I’m psychic?” he asked Lassie. “After all this time of me calling in tips and the McCallum case?”

“Psychics don’t exist, Spencer,” Lassie said, standing up from the chair. “You may be extremely observant with a great memory, but you are definitely not a psychic.” Lassie patted Shawn’s foot as he passed the end of the bed and walked out of the emergency room.


	4. Chapter 4

Lassie slept weirdly well, probably because he knew Shawn was safe in the hospital and that he wouldn’t have to worry about him further. Then again, probably not. Shawn wasn’t that important to him. It was probably the knowledge that he wouldn’t get another call from the hospital that made him sleep better. 

He got up in the morning and put on one of his suits, as was his standard outfit for work. Like a uniform. He picked out a nice tie that he felt said “head detective” and his comfortable black wing-tip shoes, and then went off to work.

“How was your night?” Juliet asked, conversationally, when he walked into the precinct and over to his desk.

“More eventful that I would have liked and yet simultaneously not as thrilling as I anticipated,” Lassie answered as he hung his suit jacket on the coat stand near his desk. 

“Wow, I was expecting a simple ‘fine’ but color me intrigued!”

“I got a call from the hospital late last night to come identify a John Doe and the guy turned out to be alive.”

“Like, they thought he was dead and then he was alive? Or they used poor working over the phone?”

“Poor wording,” Lassie provided. “Though, seeing how slow the hospital was, I now realize she probably worded it poorly for the drama.”

“So who’d the guy end up being?” Juliet probed. Lassie didn’t want to tell her that it was Shawn. She barely knew him, anyway.

“Just some guy I put away once,” Lassie said. “Out on parole and had my number in his phone for some reason.”

“Weird,” Juliet responded. “Anyway, the coroner is taking a look at Cavanaugh’s body right now and we had his medical files sent over to help see if anything the they find doesn’t match up.”

“Sweet. Lets go talk to the coroner, then.”

¤¤¤¤¤¤

It was a short walk to the coroner’s office, since it was in the basement of the precinct. The cold seemed to ooze out of the room despite the large doors designed to keep the cold in. The coroner was standing over the table with Cavanaugh’s body as they entered. 

“Morning, doctor,” Lassie said, stopping to sand across the table from the man.

“Morning, detectives,” the coroner said. He took off one of his gloves, pushed his safety glasses onto the top of his head, and extended his hand to Lassie and Juliet to shake hands. 

“So, tell me,” Lassie began after shaking the coroner’s hand. “Did this man die from a heart attack?” 

“From a cursory examination, I would say that a heart attack was the likely culprit. The advanced age of this man combined with his slightly heavy weight, combined with the fast food he ate—based on the contents and scarring of his stomach, he ate fast food quite often—a heart attack would be my first guess. However, I need to take a look at the heart to know for certain, but I’m sure it will show the signs.”

“So, we can rule this as natural causes, then?”

“Yes, I think you can. I did notice from his medical records that he had an allergy to shellfish, though. From what I can tell thus far, he had an anaphylactic reaction and the stress led to what would colloquially be called a heart attack.”

“Thank you, doctor,” Juliet said. She and Lassie shook hands with the doctor and then went back upstairs. 

They were walking back to their desks when they saw Shawn and Guster walking towards the chief’s office. Lassie quietly excused himself as Juliet sat down at her desk, and he saw Shawn say something to Guster that then made Guster walk off.

“Spencer, what are you doing out of the hospital?” Lassie asked in a hushed tone as he walked over the Shawn. The man was limping badly and had taken the bandage off of his wrist. Luckily the knee brace was still present, but Lassie figured that meant Shawn was in too much pain to justify brazenly getting rid of it.

“Gus sprang me this morning,” Shawn said in a similarly hushed tone. ”Plus, I feel fine.”

“You’re clearly limping, Spencer.”

“Yeah, because this knee brace is cutting off all circulation to my lower leg,” Shawn replied, reaching down to remove it. Lassie caught his wrist and leveled him with a look he was hoping conveyed “don’t you dare take that brace off.” Clearly, the look worked because he straightened up slowly but didn’t take back his wrist. Lassie had to make himself let go. 

“Why are you here?” Lassie tried not to sound to accusatory.

“I had a vision,” Shawn said. “Am currently having a vision, actually. And I came to tell the chief.” At this point, Guster walked back up to Shawn with two cups of water. Guster handed Shawn one of the cups and before Shawn was able to take a sip, Lassie took the cup out of his hand and walked back to Juliet. 

“O’Hara, the psychic says he’s having a vision and is talking to the chief,” Lassie said, handing her the cup of water. “We should probably join them.”

Juliet looked at the water in confusion before standing and following Lassie to Chief Vick’s office. 

“Oh, good,” the chief said as they entered. “I was just about to call you in. Mr. Spencer here says he’s had a vision—“ 

“Is having a vision,” Shawn cut in, earning a glare from the chief. Shawn sat down in one of the chairs in front of the chief’s desk and put his index fingers to his temples. Lassie and Juliet stood off to the side, Lassie rolling his eyes and folding his arms. 

“I sense that…Cavanaugh was…poisoned,” Shawn said.

“Poisoned?” the chief asked incredulously.

“I feel somebody poisoned his food. There is a…Styrofoam container…yes, and a…” Shawn groaned before continuing with, “’Happiness is a golden poem.’ What?” Shawn made a cracking noise accompanied by his hands miming breaking something open. “a fortune cookie!”

“This is ridiculous,” Lassie said barely under his breath. 

“Is it?” Juliet asked.

“Mr. Spencer,” Chief Vick began. “What we have now points to a medical condition, not murder. All appearances show Mr. Cavanaugh having an anaphylactic reaction.”

“Not to be out of line,” Guster interjected, “but that could be triggered by several types of poisons, or altered medications.”

“Or shellfish, which he was allergic to,” Lassie tossed back. 

“Those results will show up in the toxicology report,” Chief Vick said as she sat down, “which we will have a copy of in approximately two weeks.”

“No, no, no! That’ll be too late,” Shawn moved to stand as he spoke. “All the contestants will have gone—“ Shawn winced at what was clearly the pain in his leg but passed it off as a psychic thing by moving his finger to his head. “—home. You won’t be able to finish a real investigation. Chief, I…I sense this. Something got out of control, and the perpetrator was willing to kill to cover it up.”

“What proof do you have?” the chief inquired.

“Only what I feel,” Shawn said hesitantly.

“Why are you still listening to this crap?” Lassie asked tiredly. 

“Dude, what is your glitch?” Shawn snapped at him, probably due to the pain. Lassie decided to roll with it. 

“You. You’re my ‘glitch.’” Lassie turned to Chief Vick. “Look, he got nowhere with his little inhaler assignment, and then he tells the media that we had a murder scene! Cut him loose, Karen!” That earned him a seething glare, so he backtracked a bit. “I mean, do whatever you think is best…Chief.” There was a beat of silence in the room.

“Mr. Cavanaugh was going to make an announcement,” Guster piped up. “What about that?”

“The director said he’d spoken of retiring,” Juliet provided.

“That’s not what he was going to say,” Shawn said confidently.

“Oh, you know?” Lassie prodded.

“I know,” Shawn said derisively, giving him a dry look.

“Mr. Spencer,” Chief Vick began to stop what Lassie would only describe as bickering. “I asked you to check in about the inhaler incident. If you or your partner have anything about that, I’d be happy to hear about it. Otherwise…”

Shawn and Guster looked at each other but said nothing.

“Right, then you’re all dismissed,” the chief said and waved at the door. Lassie walked over to hold the door for Juliet and ended up holding the door for Guster and Shawn as well. As he turned to go back to his desk, he overheard Shawn and mention something about the Spellmaster’s room but decided to ignore it for now. 

Lassie walked over to his desk and snagged his jacket from the coat stand.

“Where are you headed?” Juliet asked.

“I got an errand to run,” Lassie replied. “I’ll be back in a bit.”

He grabbed his keys, gave Juliet a mock salute, and went to his car. 

¤¤¤¤¤¤

Once Lassie had called that Dr. Stiles back and found that Shawn had been found along State Route 192, it was child’s play to go and find his bike. He drove along and eventually saw the thing reflecting the sun. 

He pulled over and got out of the car, careful to avoid the oncoming traffic. He stepped into the weeds and towards the bike, trying to follow the path it took into the brush. Sure enough, he found Shawn’s wallet in the dirt and pocketed it to return later. He picked up the bike from how it lay on its side and pushed it back to the road to his car. Putting down the back seats of his sedan was a trial but didn’t hold a candle to the struggle it proved to put the bike carefully through the trunk and into the cabin. Luckily, his car was designed for large cargo and Shawn’s bike wasn’t too chunky to fit. 

However, once he had the bike tucked safely into his car, he realized he was parked over some skid marks. Following the skid marks he could see, he realized they were clearly from Shawn’s bike. He carefully walked into the road when the coast was clear and found the beginning of Shawn’s skid marks, then followed them to where they took a sharp turn towards the brush. 

Sure enough, a little bit ahead of them was a set of tire marks from what looked to be a car or van that had luckily driven through some mud and left enough of a mark to be identifiable. Lassie snapped a picture of them on his phone to have the crime lab analyze later. 

Lassie got back into his car and drove home to see about the damage to Shawn’s bike.

¤¤¤¤¤¤

The bike was in pretty good condition, just dirty and slightly dented. Still, Lassie took a look at the engine and tuned it until it sounded right, and then was able to get most of the small dings out by tapping them with the side of a wrench. Then, all it took was a wet rag and the bike looked good as…well, not new, but decent. 

He may as well clean and condition the leather while he was there. 

Fixing Shawn’s bike ended up consuming his afternoon. When he was done with it, he had all but taken it apart, cleaned it, and reassembled it again. He was now covered in engine grease and dirt, though, so a shower was imperative. 

Lassie had turned the water on and was about to step into the spray when his phone began to ring. He sighed and turned the water off. He put on his bathrobe and walked over to his hall table to grab his phone, opening it and saying “Detective Carlton Lassiter” into the receiver.

“Hey, the chief wants us to go with her to the Cabrillo Theatre,” Juliet’s voice said from the other end. “I’ll ride with her and you can meet us there as soon as possible.”

“Roger that,” Lassie said and hung up. He hastened over to the kitchen sink to use dish soap on the engine grease still on his hands and arms, before getting back into his suit from earlier.


	5. Chapter 5

“Sorry to take you away from your errands, Lassiter,” the chief said when they met up in the lobby of the theater. “Mr. Spencer gave us a call saying he was going to wrap up two cases in one swoop.”

“Doubtful,” Lassie said as they walked through the double door and into the theater hall itself. The spelling bee was wrapping up in front of them as a woman walked on stage with a large cardboard check.

“And this year’s winner of the Central California Regionals is Jiri Prochazka,” the woman said with a smile. Everyone in the audience began to applaud as she handed the cardboard check to a boy and his father. Guster rushed over to them and Shawn walked onto the stage, whooping and applauding loudly. And limping. 

“Whoop it up, people!” Shawn called out to the crowd. “This is what you came to see, right here! This is it! Yes!” Shawn took the one of the boy’s and one of the father’s wrists and held them in the air in victory. Lassie tried not to roll his eyes. 

“This competition meant everything to Miklos!” Shawn then started convulsing as if the wrists he was holding were electrocuting him. “Oh boy! Gus! Gus, here were go! Gus, it’s happening!” 

Shawn flung the hands away and stumbled a bit before recovering and standing up straight.

“I know who killed Elvin Cavanaugh.”

“Can’t he ever just tell us to arrest someone?” Chief Vick sounded exasperated, a feeling Lassie echoed. 

“He does this a lot?” Juliet asked, genuine confusion in her voice.

“Yes,” Lassie and the chief said at the same time.

“Sorry,” Shawn said, breathing heavily. “I’m kind of a slave to my visions. I’m a slave.”

“Do you want me to cuff him?” Lassie asked Chief Vick, considering that Shawn was disrupting the spelling bee. 

“Why would I want that?” the chief replied, incredulously.

“Just a suggestion,” Lassie defended. Shawn hadn’t actually done anything aside from proclaim that he knew who the murderer was, and everything he had done technically counted as disorderly conduct. 

“They just sort of come when they want to come,” Shawn continued to the crowd. Then he turned to the boy. “Jiri…spell ‘soubrette’.”

“Why is this man speaking?” the father, Miklos, asked in frustration.

“You can’t, can you?” Shawn said to the boy, Jiri. “Not without help from your dad. And that’s not a real inhaler, is it?”

“This is crazy,” Miklos spluttered. “This…This…”

“Cheating was Cavanaugh’s obsession.” Shawn, finger on his temple, now turned to Miklos as he spoke. “He was going to expose you as a cheater. He was going to disqualify Jiri, and you knew it, and you couldn’t let that happen. You had too much to lose. You slipped into the box. You knew his comfort was food. He was dangerously unhealthy.” Shawn reached out in front of him for nothing, imitating Cavanaugh’s reaction to the poison. 

“He’s starting to go into shock,” Shawn continued. “You knew he wouldn’t stop the bee. He never stops the bee. By the end of the round, it was too late. Too dizzy to walk, he stumbles…” Shawn mimed Cavanaugh stumbling, though unlike Cavanaugh, Shawn was walking towards the edge of the stage. For a moment, Lassie worried that Shawn was too committed to the performance and would actually throw himself off the stage, but he stopped himself at the edge. 

“He tumbles over the rail…crashes to the chairs below…and there goes the evidence,” Shawn culminated his story. “Except for one thing—.“ He pointed at Jiri just in time to see the kid slip his hand into his pocket. “—That inhaler.”

“It sends electronic signals!” Shawn called out from his spot still on the edge of the stage. Lassie suddenly thought about Shawn’s injured leg giving out, causing him to fall off the edge and get even more injured. The thought made his chest clench. 

“The transmitter is in your jacket,” Shawn pointed at Miklos as he spoke. “You sent the signals from the audience to the stage. And I bet at your home, we’ll find the van that ran me off the road when I alerted the police! And a dangerous cocktail of unforgiving poisons.”

“You don’t need it,” Juliet said, stepping past Lassie. “I took your advice. I ran the Chinese food through the lab. Nothing’s definite…” Juliet trailed off as she looked at Lassie. He was apparently failing at hiding his disappointment at Juliet hiding things from him. “I’m sorry,” she apologized to him. “He just seemed sure. I took a shot.”

Lassie saw Shawn mouth “thank you” to Juliet from the stage and caught, out of the corner of his eye, a nod in response from Juliet. 

“I’ll take it from here,” the chief said, walking forward to the steps leading onto the stage. The woman who handed Jiri the check walked back over and took it from him as the chief and another uniform walked over with their cuffs ready. 

“This Spencer guy seems to know what he’s doing,” Juliet mused. 

“He knows how to butt in where he’s not wanted or needed, but that’s the extent of it,” Lassie replied and walked over to join the chief.

As Lassie walked Miklos out to one of the police cars, he saw Shawn and Guster talking. Shawn must have said something to piss Guster off because he was suddenly stepping backwards away from the man, an angry expression blooming on Guster’s face. Shawn started limping quickly away as Guster began chasing after him and Lassie felt his lips quirk into a smile.

Lassie closed the door after Miklos and pat the roof of the car twice to let the officer driving know it was okay to head to the station, and then he walked over to his own car and got in. Before he started the engine, he took out his phone and sent a quick text to Shawn:

“Spencer—swing by my place later. I have something of yours.” 

Lassie put his phone away, started the engine, and drove back to his apartment. 

¤¤¤¤¤¤

A knock sounded on the door around 9 pm and Lassie, now in a comfortable sweater and slacks, walked over and opened the door.

“Hey, sorry I’m over so late,” Shawn said, hands in his jacket pocket. “You said you had something of mine?”

“Yeah, follow me,” Lassie stepped out into the hallway of his apartment building and motioned for Shawn to follow him. They went down to the main parking lot and over to Lassie’s parking spot.

Lassie walked around his own car and over to the spot next to it. He had left Shawn’s bike covered in a blue tarp to keep the dust and dirt off of it, but Lassie figured now was the time to remove it.

“My…bike?” Shawn said, confusion in his voice. 

“Yeah, I asked the doctor at the hospital about which highway you ‘crashed’ on,” Lassie explained, making quotes with his fingers in the air. “Once I knew that, it was easy to find your bike in the weeds on the side of the road. Also, I saw the skid marks from your tires and the muddy tire tracks of the vehicle that ran you off the road. I was going to have the lab look at them but then we wrapped up the case.”

“Lassie, I don’t know what to say, man,” Shawn said, his hands on his hips.

“Don’t mention it. That’s why I’m here and that’s why you have my number. But seriously—don’t mention it. To anyone.”

“Gotcha. How much did it cost to fix it?” Shawn walked over and knelt down to look at his bike. “It looks like you got it detailed.”

“It only cost a few hours of my time, Spencer,” Lassie said honestly.

“Then I’ll give you a few hours of my time to repay you,” Shawn declared, standing up and giving Lassie a suggestive look. “I know just what we can do but you’ll have to be gentle with me. My leg is still bothering me.”

“How about we start by getting you some painkillers and then see where that goes?” Lassie countered, really not wanting to damage Shawn further but also really liking what Shawn was suggesting.

“Fine, but I’m taking off my pants,” Shawn replied, limping past Lassie towards the building’s door. Lassie quickly threw the tarp back over the motorcycle and then followed Shawn inside.


End file.
